Notches
by BrowncoatGrl
Summary: Everyone has notches in their bedposts. Rated M. Lemons. Various pairings. Pairings covered so far: Roy/Ed, Roy/Riza, Ed/Winry, Roy/Olivia
1. Their First Time

**A/N: So, I basically got bored waiting for a "first-time" RoyxEd fic. Decided to write it myself. Let's just say for the sake of consensual legality that this happens after Ed's been in the army quite a few years. **

**Not all installments will be RoyxEd. Will focus on other FMA pairings, hetero or not. Love is love, am I right? **

**Read/Review, please! **

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Roy tilted his lover's chin back, consuming the younger alchemist's mouth with his own. Aureate hair stayed locked away in a low braid. Tight uniforms were slowly shelled and left to puddle on the floor. The younger took the tip of one glove between his teeth, smiling as he pulled it off slowly. The other followed. Roy ran his hands up, under the opposing shirt to feel defined muscle pricked with scars. Wounds that he'd been unable to protect Ed from. Locked away in his office while the Fullmetal Alchemist was off in the world and searching for that damned stone.

He hadn't planned on falling in love. He hadn't planned on feeling his gut wrench into a knot every time Ed wound up in the hospital. Hadn't planned that first, daring kiss. And he certainly hadn't planned that a month later they'd be in his room. He hadn't planned any of it and he was waiting for this dream to be ripped away from him by conscious cruelty.

Ed's thin fingers combed through his ebony hair, clutching his head and keeping their lips locked. Roy could feel the bulge in his lover's pants and felt his own twitch when Ed moaned into his lips. Roy maneuvered his knee between Ed's legs. The smaller alchemist's back arched, driving his erection into stiff cotton and Roy's thigh. Another moan vibrating across Ed's mouth and into his own made him grab Ed tighter, pull him closer.

He abandoned soft lips for the thick column of neck below, nipping at Ed's jawline and hearing him gasp, fingertips digging into the back of his head and shoulders. Roy moved them, slowly, deliberately, giving Ed every chance to stop this before they reached the edge of the bed. He didn't think he would hear a 'no', but just giving the young man the chance made him wonder if this was what he wanted. If Ed was really ready to go beyond this frantic touching with him. The last month had been everything but the bed. Fingers and mouths and frenzied touches. Would Ed let him go further this time?

"Roy…," Ed gasped, the other's kiss over sensitized flesh where automail met shoulder.

He pulled back, looking into glazed eyes, waiting to hear the protest. Ed's knees had touched the edge of the bed.

"I'm not…"

Roy nodded, his logical brain trying to vie for power with his lusting body, "We can stop," he said breathlessly.

"No! I've…I've just never done this before."

Roy stared at him. Surely he didn't mean…surely Ed had had his adventures. Surely the younger alchemist had done this before. His contemplative face must've screwed with Ed's nerve because those gold eyes darted down, hidden by shame.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered.

Roy grabbed him tighter, locking their lips together and smothering the shocked yelp from Edward's mouth. The younger relented and bucked his hips when Roy ran his fingers over the fly of his pants. Ed's fingers worked tirelessly on his buttons, stripping Roy of rank before reaching for the buckle of his belt.

It was a race to reach bare skin first. One that Roy won by pulling down Ed's pants in one yank. His hand cupped Ed's throbbing cock, making him moan and buck his hips eagerly. Ed's hands were still fumbling with Roy's belt and when the battle had finally been decided in Ed's favor, he reached behind the elastic waistband of Roy's underwear. The older alchemist was quickly thankful that it was warm flesh against warm flesh, and not cold steel against him. Whether Ed had been beyond this or not, Roy suddenly didn't care. If he had, Roy could live with it because it was still their first time. If he hadn't, Roy wanted to memorize every moment and make this first time even more special because of it. He gently pushed Edward down onto the bed. The younger alchemist's kisses grew more demanding, more fervent. Like this was the line before there was no return. He moaned into Roy's mouth when his cock was stroked slowly, Roy's thumb pressing against the slit and gathering up the beads of juice starting to flow. Ed's hand stalled in its exploratory touches against Roy, driven to stillness at Roy's touch on him.

"Are you sure you want this?" Roy whispered.

"Don't you dare stop," Ed's head snapped back as Roy's finger found his puckered opening.

Roy chuckled against Ed's neck, biting along the jaw while slipping his long middle finger inside Ed and past the ring of muscle, working it around to let the younger man get used to it. He kissed him, kept him preoccupied on other feelings while his finger darted in and out. Ed's mouth sprung open the first time Roy found that sweet spot deeper in, a startled and pleased curse rolling off the younger's tongue. His back arched and Roy smiled while dotting kisses along Ed's chest. Hands tightened around fistfuls of sheets each time Roy pushed against his prostate, breathless moans escaping from his mouth.

Roy pulled his finger out and a needy whimper was cut off while he locked Ed's lips with his own.

He gently tilted Ed's hips, starting to push in with two fingers. Ed gasped, his hands latching tight onto Roy's shoulders. Roy could feel short fingernails and cold metal digging into the soft skin of his back. Ed's eyes were screwed shut. Kissing his eyelids, Roy waited, letting the body allow the intrusion. He felt some satisfaction in realizing that this would truly be Ed's first time. Even the best actor in the world couldn't fake that tightness that wrapped itself around Roy's two fingers.

"Do you want me to stop?" Roy asked gently, still kissing Ed's face methodically.

Ed opened his eyes, shaking his head ever so slightly, "No…"

"I'll go slow," he promised, trailing his free hand up and down Ed's body, trying to draw more pleasurable nerves into the foreground while Ed's body dealt with the intrusion. His tongue circled a nipple, laving it into a hard peak before taking it gently between his teeth. He could feel Ed's fingers go slack, the youth's body relaxing and his back touching the sheets again. He could feel the rapid heartbeat beneath fair skin. Even when he began to scissor his fingers, stretching and pulling, Ed's grip stayed slack and he moaned with pleasure.

Ed brought Roy to his lips, swollen and bruised. Their tongues danced together and Roy smiled into it. Ed didn't expect the gentle nudge against his prostate and his full-throated moan against Roy's lips made his cock throb. He wanted to be inside this perfect body. He wanted nothing more than to feel Ed around him.

He pushed his fingers in harder, hitting that spot again.

"Fuck!" Ed cried out, back arching.

He withdrew two fingers before quickly shoving three back in to rub against the sweet spot inside him. Ed's head snapped back, his fists wrapping around the sheets, guttural noises gurgling up from deep inside him at the intense mix of pleasure and pain. Roy smiled again, seeing his lover caught between the two feelings. He pulled his fingers out and again pushed them quickly back in, hitting the prostate even harder. Ed cried out again, a slur of incoherent vowels and sharp exhales.

"Do you like that?" Roy asked, smiling, moving his fingertips in minscule circles, massaging the organ that reaped the immense pleasure.

"Oh, god, yes!"

Keeping three fingers constantly exciting Ed's sweet spot, he idly reached for the lube in the top drawer of his nightstand. Finding it, he withdrew his fingers and coated himself liberally, wiping his hands off on the decorative pillow. Ed's body was still thrumming. Roy wrapped his arms under Ed's thighs, pulling him to the very edge of the bed. He bowed over him, dotting kisses here and again. The pounding heart under the flushed skin made him smile. Ed's lips met his, the youth bucking his hips against Roy's in a silently desperate plea for more. Stroking falling locks of hair from Ed's face, Roy stared into those deep gold eyes.

He'd dreamed of this. He'd attuned himself to Ed so fully that now, here, he couldn't believe he was going to be allowed this sinful pleasure.

"I don't want to hurt you," he admitted.

Ed almost smiled, kissing him fiercely, "I trust you."

The admission caused Roy's throat to tighten. Hearing those words pass from those lips was something he'd never allowed himself to believe would happen. He pressed his mouth against Ed's again, savoring the taste of lust and apprehension in it.

Wrapping one hand behind Ed's neck, keeping their lips joined, and the other wrapping under Ed's thigh, he rocked his hips forward. Ed's legs wrapped immediately around Roy's waist, his hips tilting the wrong way as his body's primal fear took control over that needy desire. Roy waited, still kissing Ed's ajar and paralyzed lips, giving time for the body let its guard down again before continuing.

Reaching between their bodies, Roy found Ed's erection and stoked it back to fullness. He ran his thumb over the slit, trailing fingers down the thick vein on the underside of it. The distraction allowed him to push deeper if only a little. Ed's pleasurable moan turned into a hiss of pain and his body shot up, one hand splaying firmly against the older alchemist's chest while the other wrapped around his neck and shoulders Pushing and pulling him farther and closer. His head ducked to touch chin to chest and Roy gently eased them both down onto the bed again. He quickened his strokes on Ed's cock, his hips continually pushing forward in a slow, deliberate invasion.

"It hurts," Ed whimpered and if Roy hadn't been laying so closely atop him, he never would have heard it pass over his lips.

Roy kissed his forehead, getting Ed to look him in the eyes before kissing his swollen lips, "I know…"

Ed's flesh hand still dug into the skin on the back of Roy's shoulders, his body shaking with the bombardment of sensations. His automail right hand was cold against Roy's chest, constantly reminding him of the need to be slow, methodical. There would be a time in the future for the pure frenzy of such bedroom antics. But for now, Roy worried that he had gone too quickly, not prepared his lover enough, when something just gave and he was able to slide all the way in. Ed's head reared back, his back arched and a strained curse dribbled from his mouth. Roy could see tears trailing from the corners of his eyes. He kissed them away, slowly grinding his hips to alleviate the pressure inside Ed's small body. He watched Ed's face relax with each small motion, his vice grip on Roy's back slacking. When Ed returned the idle kisses, turned them into passionate, heated moments, Roy moved his hips more. Ed's body rocked under his, the grimace of pain sliding away as the knee-quaking pleasure shot up his spine. Roy could feel his heels dig into the small of his back, hands running up into short black hair to deepen the kiss.

"Faster," Ed panted between kisses.

Roy smiled at him, jerking his hips forward harder than before, but keeping his motions tightly reined in. Too much, too hard, too fast, would only hurt his lover tomorrow and if it was one thing he couldn't stand the thought of, was new wounds. The new speed allowed him to pound hard into that all-powerful sweet spot and Ed howled. Roy jerked his hips forward again, slamming more deliberately with each thrust. Ed's body welcomed him, both of his hands roaming wildly against Roy's back and upper arms, trailing cool steel and heated flesh up his neck and skull. Memorizing Roy's body with each rhythmic attack on his own.

"Oh god…" Ed's uncoordinated mouth dribbled out.

Keeping their chests barely touching, brushing against each other with each movement, Roy found the younger alchemist's lips, absentmindedly kissing while his own body screamed for more. Their bodies danced and Ed's eyes found his only to make his kisses more fervent, more demanding. Flesh fingers trailed over his face, golden eyes directed solely into his of black coal. Smiling, his twisted his hips ever so slightly, finding a more electric angle to fuel Ed's passion. The way his head reared back, losing their connecting gaze before finding it again…

A low moan, punctuated with each pass over his prostate, vibrated along Ed's body, traveling up Roy's. He could feel his stomach clench up tight, getting tighter each time Ed made a guttural plea of pleasure. Ed's hips turned up, pushing Roy deeper in and giving him a new angle at which to attack the pleasure center inside.

"Roy…oh, god…

Hearing his strangled name roll off Ed's lips so unabashedly, so needily, made the coil in his gut tighten unbearably. He could feel Ed shaking beneath him, quivering for the onslaught of pleasurable nerves being fired off in quick succession. Reaching under his neck, Roy lifted his reared head back to find his ocher eyes again, penetrating mouth with tongue to the rhythm his body set. Saliva trailed from their joined mouths. He felt Ed's grip on his upper arms tighten and his body arched up. He came panting. Ed cried out and Roy felt his warm sin hitting him on his stomach. His own exploded inside the younger body a moment later. He let his forehead touch Ed's chest, languidly kissing the flushed flesh. He rocked in the aftermath, Ed's overly sensitized organ pulsating with the aftershocks.

Chest heaving, he regained his composure, feeling his erratic heartbeat and Ed's matching in panicked dissonance every few seconds.

Ed's lolling hand came up onto Roy's head, "Wow."

Roy smiled, leaning his head to capture Ed's willing mouth against his again. The kiss became languid, exhaustion seeping in as the aftermath rolled away.

"When I tell you, exhale."

Ed nodded. Roy kissed him for another moment, trying to keep the haze on his brain fresh.

"Now," he whispered.

Ed exhaled from the depth of his chest and Roy pulled himself out of the smaller body, hearing the soft pop and hiss of pain. He watched Ed wince before forcing his features to smooth out. Roy took his face in his hand, driving his tongue deep into his mouth to explore every nook and cranny.

Ed moaned into his mouth. They rolled onto their sides and Ed wrapped one leg over Roy's to bring their bodies closer.

"Was it worth it?" Roy asked, hushed.

Ed nodded, his eyelids drifting down, "Don't think I'll be able to walk, though," he added thoughtfully.

Roy smiled, kissing him again before he pulled away, "You can call out tomorrow. Have a three-day weekend."

Ed smiled coyly, "My boss might get upset."

"I think you can play hooky for one day."

"Might have to play hooky more often," he smiled as his eyes drifted closed.

Roy kissed him again, softly, gently, "As long as it's because of me."

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**A/N: Just an FYI, for those who don't get the title: there's an old saying that each time a new lover was brought into bed, a small notch would be put into the bedpost to count the number of "conquests" the owner of the bed had had. **


	2. Freudian Guns

**A/N: RoyxRiza piece this time. Takes place back in the barrack housing, in case you're wondering about the ladder.**

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Roy stood at the base of the ladder to his bunk bed. He was tired, sticky with the contents of some rather unpleasant underground caverns, and in no mood to have a gun pointing at him.

Seeing Riza Hawkeye naked, however, took his attention off the aimed gun.

She was smiling, laid out in all her skyclad glory in his battered old armchair with her favored pistol aimed at him. He swallowed, watching her as she blatantly surveyed him, the gun leveled at his gut where the heat was starting to roar up. The dim light highlighted curves that were tantalizingly fresh and clean.

"Hey," he choked out.

She smiled, "You look a wreck."

"Bad day."

"Really? Care to make it better?"

He smiled and started to take a step closer to his collective betterness. She cocked the hammer of the gun and he froze, unsure.

"Didn't say you could move. Clothes off."

The command made him shiver.

"Wha—"

She ran her brown eyes up and down the length of him, motioning with the gun, "Clothes. Off. Now."

He was sure that being commanded shouldn't've been so arousing. He could feel himself getting hard behind the confines of stiff cotton. He unbuttoned his shirt, her ever-present gaze so heavy he could feel it taunting him to madness. The swampified shirt was tossed aside, boots sloshing when he shucked them, pants tight against still-damp and chaffed skin, underwear not any better than the rest of the garments. He had very quickly developed a hatred for swamped caves and the patrol that entailed them.

She was still watching him, her eyes lingering over his at-attention cock before traveling the rest of his bare body.

"Riza…"

She shshhed him, motioning with the gun again, "Turn around. I want to take a look at you."

He exhaled raggedly, his body tingling with cool air and lust. He put his back to her, making the full round-about after that to face her again. She was smiling. He was no less submissive than she, but he damn well felt under her thumb at the moment.

She stood, the gun still in hand, "Hands up."

His hands went into that classical placating gesture and she walked closer, still surveying him. He needed her touch, wanted her to relieve him of his lust. She was too close. He could feel the heat coming off her in waves. Toxic. With his hands nowhere near his middle, she was able to touch the barrel of the gun to his stomach. He flinched and closed his eyes from the coolness of deadly metal. The hammer was still cocked and damn it if that didn't make him harder. She was skilled, controlled, enough to use a loaded gun for some stunt like this.

She was staring when he opened his eyes and she was smiling. She started to walk around him, the barrel of the gun trailing along the equator of his body. He gasped when it touched sensitive flesh along the side of his ribs. It felt cool and refreshing against the small of his back. His hands stayed up even through the burning desire to jack himself off. He had to close his eyes when she trailed the gun back around to his front. She was naked, armed, holding him at bay with a loaded gun, and he could feel her gaze burn through him, hungry, insatiable. The barrel nestled itself into his belly button and she pressed just enough to make his breath catch and his eyes open. The pressure softened and he wanted, more than anything, to touch her. She was smiling devilishly. His hands and arms were slowly drifting down and the tingly feeling in the tips of his fingers told him just how much blood had vacated his top half to travel to his center.

The gun stayed in his belly and she hunched down, her tongue darting out to lap at the head of him. He gasped, eyes closing. His hands continued going down.

"Hands up. Or I won't go further."

He made some nasally complaint in the back of his throat and lifted his arms and hands high again. The loss of sensation there was compensated for by the sudden, overwhelming heat that sucked him in. He gasped outright and when his body pushed forward for more it was held back by the barrel of the gun, denied even the basic thrust he so wanted to sync with her mouth. Her mouth released him and he whimpered – _whimpered_ – with the loss of it. There were quick, tantalizing moments of contact that never did more than keep him rigidly hypnotized. He let his head back and stared at the ceiling of his dorm, feeling longer bursts of pleasure.

She was pushing him back against the ladder he'd never gotten very far from. The frozen rungs burnt his back and shoulders and buttocks and he shivered because she was sucking him off while his body dealt with the onslaught of sensations. He grabbed the rung at his head-height, clenching with each vibrating hum she concocted in her throat. The gun pressed harder into his middle and it was him that was causing it, unable to keep from pushing forward. The pain reiterated the pleasure and his knuckles turned white around the rung. He looked down at the feeling from the gun. It was trailing back up his chest, towards his face so that looking so sharply down at it made his head spin with vertigo and pain. She sucked him in whole and he gasped, his head thunking against the rung behind it.

The gun was beneath his jawline, snuggled in the absence between muscle and Adam's apple that was made more obvious as he strained his head back to get away from the barrel and deeper into the ecstasy she was reaping on him. She was holding him off, one hand on his stomach where the gun had been to keep him flush against the rungs of the ladder, the other pressing the gun painfully hard into his jawline.

She pulled the trigger. He cried out.

The hammer snapped harmlessly down onto an empty chamber and he melted against the rungs while she sucked the last of his orgasm away from him.

She moved her body up against his, her mouth away from his cock, and slowly rose from her haunches to be fully pressed against his frontside. The gun still kept him looking skyward and he swallowed, vibrating from the intensity of the fall she'd wrought on him. He tried to loose his grip on the rung behind the top of his head but it hurt to open the clenched fists.

The gun finally trailed away from his jaw and he brought his head level to see her shining face so close. He forced his fists open to take her jaw in them, catching her swollen lips with his and pressing past them with his tongue. The gun clattered to the wooden floor and she planted her hands on his chest, tracing invisible lines that sent more shivers down his body. He exhaled deep when she brushed her fingertips against his cock.

She smiled, "Did you like that?"

He regained a smidge of composure, "Never look at that gun the same way."

"Day getting any better?"

"Loads."

"Should I keep going?"

His eyes drifted closed with just the thought, the suggestion, of something so intense continuing. She moved her lips to his jawline, nipping and making him jump. Her lips latched onto his earlobe and pressed together. He hated the fact that he had sensitive ears and more than that, that she knew about it. He was helpless the moment she touched them with her mouth. He exhaled again, inhaling to smell the freshness of her. He gasped when she bit the sensitive lobe and had to fight to catch a breath.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Maybe I should take it slower this time."

"Riza…"

"Make you beg for it."

"Don't beg," his voice sounded breathless even as he tried to regain control and prove her wrong.

"We'll see."

She sounded so sure he had to wonder just how well she knew him. Despite the deliciously wicked image forming in his head, he opened his eyes and pulled away from her tongue on his jaw and ear.

"Wanna do for you."

"Roy…I'm going to make you beg."

He kissed her. Rough. Penetrating. Taking air out of her before she started taking it back. She broke loose and pressed hard against him, her whole body so intact with his he couldn't tell where the two separated.

"Make you squirm."

He whimpered because now she wasn't just using her touch, she was using that trick of hers that drove him insane and hard. His head hit the rung again and he could feel her smile against the column of his neck. He gasped and tensed, rigid with pleasure as she worked him again, finding all the little spots that alone did nothing to his resolve but together made his knees quake.

"Make you howl."

"Riza—"

"Make you scream."

He yelped and pushed away from the overwhelming pleasure the same time he craved more of it. His fingers were digging into her shoulders, her back. She was chuckling at him and the hopeless mess she'd driven him to.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked quietly, whispering heavily into his ear.

"No."

She pulled away from him and he felt the cool rush of inanimate air meet his heated and flushed skin. She was standing there. He tried to move closer and found himself tied to the rungs of the ladder. Wrists above his head and ankles unable to move away. She was still smiling, gazing at him.

"Riza, please."

She moved closer, getting to her knees and staring up at him for a moment, her mouth tantalizingly close to his cock. He was mostway there. Her intense eyes looking up at him made his gut turn over in somersaults. The first, experimental touch was heat. Her hands stroked him fleetingly, barely-there caresses that had his hips thrusting forward. She clucked her tongue and he gave an exasperated moan.

"I'll tie you more," she warned, rising to full height as she spoke.

He looked her in the eyes, "Y…you wouldn't."

She smiled, reached for a basket hanging by the ladder and pulled out another silk rope. The longest one she had. She'd made mentions of using them and he'd always thought she was joking. But each wrist was tied to the rung, unable to grasp it and unable to reach the one above, left to clench around air. Ankles tied against the spokes, a gentle spread eagle position that made him feel vulnerable and enticed and enthralled in one gesture.

She breathed cool air onto his cock when she slid back down his body, trailing the silk along with her. She looped it behind his back right above the small of it and brought it forward, criss-crossing above the coarse hair at his groin before going behind him again. She came forward again, making another silken X over his thighs before making the final knot behind him. His hips were held fast against the ladder. She studied him, making his breath come shallow-like.

"Riza…"

She got on her knees again and again there were fleeting, maddening touches that he forced himself not to strain against because mostly she'd tied the damn knot so well the silk had no give and kept his backside tight against the metal. His fists clenched in air, wishing for something grasp on. His head went back the first time her tongue touched him.

She licked, kissed and stroked him, flashing pleasure up and down his body. It wasn't enough. She wasn't letting him get any further than insanity.

"Riza—" he gasped.

"What do you need, Roy?"

The heat on his cock took his brain away and he made a strangled sound in lieu of words. His mouth open in pleasurable praise, he couldn't make words until she pulled away and he was left panting, so achingly close but not falling.

"Tell me," she whispered.

"In you…want to be in you."

She found another hidden stash of goodies and pulled out oil. The one she saved and the one that drove him past insanity to steal every ounce of reason from his body. She poured a dollop into her palm, rubbing her hands together before slowly stroking the length of him in rhythm. He gasped, yelped, because the oil was cool but heated quickly as it was meant to do. It tingled, made nerves pound with desire. She moved up his body, trailing her hands to get any excess off, leaving lines of slick fire up to his chest. She kissed him and he moaned into her mouth when she rubbed her entrance over his cock.

"Beg me for it, Roy," she poured honey into his mouth with the words. He could feel her against him. Stiff peaks of her breasts rubbing against his bare chest, the friction of her groin against his that was just enough to render him speechless.

"Please. I—"

He moaned again when she bit down on his earlobe.

"Beg," she whispered afterward.

"I need it. Please. In you. Need to be in you."

The oil on his cock and chest were heating up to steal thought away, tingling him and making him all-too-aware that he was still waiting for the fall she was keeping elusively hidden.

She kissed his jaw, thrusting her hips against his before grabbing the rung above his hands and moving herself to be taller than him. Her knees were on the rung above his hips and she had her breasts just out of reach of his mouth. He bit her neck, kissed her rough there until he heard her sigh. She lowered herself slowly, reaching down with one hand to take his cock. He gasped, eyes closed when she wrapped herself around him for one small moment before pulling herself up again. Cold air made the heat of the oil burn and tingle and steal his forming words. She kept one hand on his cock, the other on the rung above him, lowering herself a second time and letting him in again for one brief moment. His hips tried to thrust up but the soft shackles kept him immobile. He was helpless, victim as for a third time she lowered herself onto him, squeezing around him and pulling up again. He tried to kiss her and her lips were just out of reach. His fists coiled tight when she moved down again.

He moaned loudly, her velvety warmth finally staying and pulsing around him. Seated on him, she grabbed the rung with both hands and starting grinding her hips in small circles. His mouth open, she kissed him. He couldn't barely return it for the intensity of the oil and her movements. She was clenching and releasing in time with the motion of her hips, moving forward, back, up and down in a range of motion that never would've happened on the bed.

"Faster. God, please, faster," he begged.

She smiled and obliged, hammering herself onto him and clenching each time. His voice drained out of him with each movement, dragged out of him by the lightening she was hitting him with. She moved her knees off the rung and wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing him deeper inside her.

He came cursing, crying out, and felt his cock strained when she clenched a final time, rocking to match the aftershocks. He finally focused, looking at her while she regained the small composure she'd lost. She opened her eyes and found his. She smiled, continually rocking while she kissed him.

He found breath again and rested his forehead against her chest while she slowly rocked and swayed.

"That better?" she asked.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers and only kissed her.

* * *

He sat on the floor on a warm towel, still naked, while she was kneeling on the same towel covered in a silken robe. The soft cloth was steaming with water and she ran it down and up his back to clean him. The gook from the caverns hadn't dried exactly, but it wasn't anywhere near wet where he could've sloughed it off in the shower. That being the case, she was washing him deliberately with the cloth.

"What got you in the mood?" he asked.

"Maes mentioned you had a rough patrol. Thought you'd like it to end well."

"Hmm, some end."

She kissed him gently on the shoulder, "Glad you approved."

"Intense."

"I'd hope so. Think you woke him up."

He looked over his shoulder at her while she dipped the cloth back into the basin. She smiled and squeezed excess water out before turning her attention to him again, "Ran into him on the way up from the bathrooms. Man wouldn't look me in the eye," she grinned.

Roy trailed his fingers down the sleeve of her robe, "You were in silk."

"That wasn't the reason he wasn't looking at me. Between your howling-"

"Well, don't you go getting generous or nothing. Want you all to myself," he cut her off.

"Don't you worry Roy Mustang. You've got me."

He chuckled, "Think it goes the other way around," he looked to the silk straps still attached to the ladder of his bunk bed.

"About time we used them."

"Next time, they go on you."

"If you can get them on me, you're welcome to it," she teased.

"That a challenge?"

"Always. Here, lean back."

He did and she cradled his head to lower it back into the basin. She ran her fingers through his hair to get more gook out. He was left to look up at her while she dimly concentrated on the cleaning of his hair. Her leg had stretched out and he used it to comfort his neck. He watched her, saw her. This was the woman he would always have at his side. No matter how or when the future called them to duty, he had some innate, inner promise that she would always be nearby.


	3. Chocolate

**A/N: Pairing kinda obvious...**

It was his shift in the outpost. His shift to keep an eye on the platoon's safety. His turn to be the vigilant alchemist he was trained to be. But, at the moment, he was having more trouble than he wanted to admit concentrating on anything. Anything except her, of course.

She was wearing an outfit that he'd never let her wear in the light of day, or in front of anyone else who wasn't him. How'd she'd managed to get into it, he didn't much care but was a little curious to. Tight, leather skirt, tall knee-high boots and a ribbed corset with a little bit of lace on the bottom. On anyone else, it might've looked like mixed signals. But on her, it was exactly what he'd expect. Only he'd never thought, in his wildest dreams, that she'd dress that way for him.

She'd somehow managed to climb the outpost ladder without him noticing. She had some goodies in one hand on a small tray. They looked like candies of some sort. He swallowed, his blood flow finding a much more interesting place to be than his brain.

"Hey," he said, barely above a whisper.

She walked closer, "I brought you a snack."

His eyes drifted to the small tray she had in front of her, only not because he was really looking at her breasts that had been pushed up and almost overflowed over the top of the corset.

"Really?"

She sat on his lap, facing him, straddling him. He looked her in the eyes; those eyes always held him captive even though he would never admit it to her. Although he had a sneaking suspicion he didn't need to tell her for her to know. She picked a candy off the tray, holding it deftly between two fingers and inhaling.

"Mmm. Take a guess."

He wasn't paying attention. He didn't much care for the candy. He wanted her, "Don't know."

She slid the candy over his agape lips. The sweet, reminiscent taste of chocolate touched the tip of his tongue. She let her fingers linger on his lips while he, for a moment, indulged in the chocolate.

"I got it for a treat. Thought you might like some."

He pushed the melting mass to one side of his mouth, "Not wrong."

She picked up another and this one had a stem in it. He smiled, eating his own delight and watching her hold the cherry over her mouth, slowly pulling it off the stem with her tongue. Her face as she ate it sent him spiraling into another level of not-being-here-dom. She ate hers and, afterwards, put the tray aside. There was still one more candy. The idea that she'd been able to buy three succulent treats made him wonder where she'd gotten the money. Expensive treats like she was sharing weren't something he could afford.

She shifted on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. The little blood he had in his brain was telling him he was supposed to be responsible. He was supposed to watch the clearing. It was his shift and, if something happened, it would cut short anything he let happen now. That, and the nagging idea that anyone in uniform could walk up here and see them. He didn't want them to know yet. She was still his little secret. His mechanic. His woman.

"Winry…maybe we shouldn't…" he whispered.

She didn't say anything. She only kissed him, her fingers curling around the back of his head. He didn't give in for a moment. He pulled away, his eyes closed because he knew if he looked at her, at those deep blue eyes, his resolve would dry up and they would find themselves too involved in each other.

"Winry…it's my shift…we shouldn't…"

"We can be quiet."

"It's not about that…I just…"

"You don't have to be tough all the time. Just give in."

God, how he wanted to. He wanted, more than anything, to give in. She was something he could feel, someone who reminded him it was still possible to feel. He didn't say anything as she kissed him again. His breath hitched when he felt her fingers over his groin. She was unbuttoning his pants. Just the pressure made him harder, made it easier for the last little bit of sanity in his brain to give in. She reached behind his open fly, touching sensitive skin. He almost hissed with pleasure, exhaling with closed eyes as she freed him from the pants that were holding him back.

She kissed him. He looked at her, reaching to her jaw to keep her from leaving the kiss. Her blonde hair was silk against his fingers. He gasped when she rubbed along his cock, spreading the wetness of his arousal around it. She kept her hand on the base, shifting her hips. Her lips left his and they stared at each other as she moved over him. His breath gave out again when he entered her. She clenched around him, driving him to insanity.

No, this wasn't meant to be a long, tantalizing thing. She was working for a quick finish. He rolled his hips up to thrust into her, her agape mouth silently telling him to keep going. Her skirt had been pushed up to her hips, her long and lean thighs squeezing his waist as she grabbed onto his shoulders for leverage that he didn't have. He wrapped his hands behind her, pulling her down onto him farther with each thrust. A quick, steady rhythm of their hips clashing.

He wasn't going to last. She knew it. He held himself back until she, too, was on the brink. Her fingers dug into his shoulders each time he bucked. He bucked up once more, keeping his rear off the chair and feeling her clench around him in shuddering, pulsing ecstasy. His own come spilled into her and she gasped. He lowered himself back to the chair, her grip on his shoulders loosening.

She took a moment before her body relaxed and her eyes opened. The small beads of sweat on her forehead caught the light from the moon. Her eyes met his and he leaned up to kiss her.

She tasted like chocolate.

* * *


	4. Lost and Found

**A/N: I love this pairing. This piece ranks a little "heavy", but still fun. Enjoi!**

* * *

Roy hadn't had many chances to make her come unglued. Most times, she took the reins and he was left speechless and plastered on the bed. But when he did bring her over the edge, he took some insult that she never made a sound. Never more than a cut-off breath or a whisper. Nothing that made Roy think he was doing it right…or at all, some times. Before her, he might not've taken offense because he hadn't been one for ruckus, either. Reserved and always in control. At least enough to rein in any outcry.

She'd changed that. And it hurt to think that he wasn't the first man she'd done it to. He wasn't the first man she'd made see stars. Not the first man she'd brought to abandoned, shameless begging. He'd never once lost control before. He hadn't thought of himself as a screamer until her. And he'd seen her leer while he'd blushed for his outburst. And with her knowing what she knew, intuitive enough to guess the rest, he was mercy to her teasing and wandering that made him cry out because she wanted him to lose control. She wanted him to know how unreservedly hers he was.

So utterly hers it was almost painful.

But she was never his.

He had never heard her lose herself in the moment; he'd never seen her so absolved of duty and training that she forgot where she was and gave in completely. He hated her for it. She wasn't attached like he was. Wasn't owned by this passion. Wasn't weak with the need to feel alive after years of cold, seeping, lifeless existence.

He'd told her as much in a burst of curiosity, and she'd silently dismissed the lingering question and slid away, back to her own little controlled world of detachment. No sound when she left, only his guilty and unworthy hide left in bed, alone and cold and wishing he'd never said anything. He'd made the mistake of opening up to her and he hated that she wouldn't do that same trusting favor to him. There had been nothing of her for over a week. She stayed away as well as she could and he hadn't had the courage to go looking for her.

Because he wondered if this last time, he'd opened up too much. If she'd finally seen who he really was and it wasn't the man she'd thought. She'd brought him to his fall, and now he was sure she'd judged him for it—for the vulnerability he'd displayed. A week of her evasiveness, and he was sure of it.

* * *

Riza stayed in her bunk, looking at the wall and not much else. She'd never realized how much Roy needed her. And the need he had wasn't one that she was used to dealing with. A week now, and she still didn't know why she couldn't be what he needed. She had made a distinction between what he needed and wanted, and she knew what he wanted better than most topics…possibly better than most people.

He wanted to be controlled. For a man so complex, it hadn't been hard to figure out. He'd been in control his whole life, and not having it was as liberating as it was daunting. She'd known what he'd wanted before he did; that control issue had caused problems at first. He'd refused to be subdued. Refused to be owned and taken. And now, she'd shattered the last of his shells and pretenses and still, he wanted more. He needed more. He wanted her to give in to him. He needed her to lose control.

There was so much she could've said when he made mention of it.

But she could never lose control. It was dangerous and wrong and…she had no idea how to. She'd let go of things in her life, and each time had been disastrous and painful and the thought of letting go around Roy made her stomach turn over. How could she let go with a man she knew was too smart to be with her for long and who was so equally damaged as to never truly be hers. She couldn't give him that little piece of her. She didn't know how to give him what he needed without losing a part of herself and there wasn't much self left to give or hold on to, let alone be destroyed by what a man needed. By what Roy needed. He wanted it, which meant, deep down, he felt he needed it. He needed to see her vulnerable. He needed to see her enthralled and in lust and love and open to him in all the ways he desired because that was who he was; one to get and give equally.

She couldn't open up to him because he would hate her for it if she did. And damn her if that kept her back more than anything because the way he would look at her, the way he would think of her, was more terrifying than anything she could face. Because with the thought of him looking down on her came the inkling that maybe he wouldn't. The hope that maybe he would accept her. That he would understand. Bullets or brass would finish her off after a time. But hope was a lingering death that she knew could last for eternity. And hoping only ever led to being let down.

If she let herself open to Roy, she would break beyond repair.

* * *

Eight days. He was about to tick nine off in his mental inventory when a new sight greeted him in his room. He stopped dead. His mind raced with thinking that maybe, just maybe, she still wanted this. Maybe she still wanted him enough to overlook the way she had of turning him weak, whimpering.

Riza, in all her glory, was seated in his favorite chair with nothing more than a silk rope draped from shoulder to hip, her legs crossed and her hair sleek and shiny in the dim light. She sat up a bit when he stared, standing and letting the silk puddle into a palm. She walked up to him, chest to chest, and trailed the silk across his cheek. He shuddered. He remembered when he'd consented to being tied down that first time. Blindfolded, too. He'd never come quite so intensely as that night. And the promise of another night of star-gazing made his blood run south.

"Riza…"

She ran a finger around the rim of his ear and he swallowed down the warm throb it sent to his gut. She gave the smallest of victory smiles, perfectly in tune with that his body was demanding.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

* * *

Roy caught his breath, satiated and spent and sweaty, while watching the ceiling dim and brighten with the aftershocks of his fall. He was still throbbing when Riza lay next to him. In so small a bed, she had to lie on her side when he was on his back. She looked perfectly in control. Composed and satisfied with herself. And she was. Even if she hadn't faced what he needed, she'd given him what he wanted. She'd made him throb with desire and had brought him, once again, to a shuddering conclusion.

He felt a jolt like electricity run through him and found that he wasn't at all ready for this night to end. Just the simple contact of her skin on his made him hard again, and he reached over for her chin to tilt it a bit. He kissed her and she hmmed contently afterwards. She loved the afterglow on him. It was when she could believe for a moment that he was truly special.

She caught the glint in his eye and she arched an eyebrow at him. He rolled onto his side and held her cheek in his hand. She could feel the firmness of him against her thigh.

"Round two?"

She actually smiled, "You don't need a breather?"

He playfully glared at her, "You insinuating something there?"

She shrugged, "Maybe."

"I want to make you beg, Elizabeth."

The moment he said the words, she knew he shouldn't've. She froze up, hoping he would do it because she couldn't deal with him having laid it on the table otherwise. Some connection sprang up in Roy's mind and he realized just how this would have to work. It wasn't simple with her. It couldn't be and maybe, if she felt it as beyond her control, she would let it be.

"Roy…"

"Please."

He kissed her, rough and bruising and he was on top of her before she could do much about it or have second thoughts. But she loved it. Loved that he needed her enough to take this risk. Loved the way he wasn't about to take no for an answer.

* * *

This was something new to him. For her being so normally quiet in bed, so damn quiet, Roy found himself urged on by the ragged, deep pleading sounds that were babbling from Riza's mouth. It seemed now that she couldn't stop herself, the moans coming from so deep inside her that they sounded like sobs.

Roy was almost sure they were sobs of pleasure.

Except that, even if he wanted to ask, he couldn't. She'd left coherent about five planets back. He'd been able to make out jumbled words—no, please, oh, god, Roy, please, stop, don't—before he'd firmly decided not to stop because seeing her lose control was about as tantalizing as when she had it. It had pushed into new territory. For them both.

No wonder she'd not wanted to do this.

She must've known this would happen. Instinct or prior experience, she knew this would be the outcome. And wondering on that, Roy felt the stab of jealousy he hated admitting to having; thinking that she knew because another man had made her lose her bearings before him…

Riza gasped and sobbed when his jealousy materialized into anger and he hurriedly reeled himself back in. One of them had to stay in control and Riza was already lost.

So utterly lost.

He'd never had her like this before. Never had he not faced her. But like this, chest to back, he felt the control she always seemed to have. One arm was under her neck, crossing over her chest and the other was gripping her hip hard and unrelenting. Somehow, he had to believe that Riza wouldn't have let him do this if she knew from another experience. No one, he decided, no one had ever brought these seismic shudders to her near-perfect body. No one had made her keel like this. Roy was the first. The only. And he didn't know if that was terrifying or exhilarating.

But he did know it was all his fault. This wouldn't be happening if he hadn't pushed her beyond her comfort. If he hadn't gotten her to admit to this need… She hadn't wanted him to take control and he suddenly understood why she'd resisted losing it for so long. He never would've imagined she'd break like this, sobbing and gasping and speaking unintelligible things. He never could have thought it would make him feel this way.

Guilty.

Unworthy.

Envious.

She'd had the resistance to stay in control for so long and that was something he couldn't lay claim to. He'd given in too easily to her. And this new vulnerability in her made him feel empowered and all manner of weak at the same time. It softened something he didn't realize needed it and he kissed her at the crook of her neck with all the tenderness he could muster.

He passed his lips across her tattooed back—and bit when her vulnerability made his softness turn to uncomfortableness and anger.

She yelped and wrenched away from the sensation, arching into it not a moment later after the sting passed. She was doing this to him even as he was making her lose it all. He held her tighter, thrusting harder and it wasn't long after that her hips were pounding back against his not because she wanted to but because her body demanded it.

And then she shouted and tensed and her body went rigid around him. Abandoned and satisfied. He pumped in echoes of the upwelling.

There was that sound again. Like sobs. Like drowning.

He pulled away from her and rolled her gently to face him. Her chin was tucked to her chest and she grabbed at him so tightly he could feel her body continue to shudder with the aftershocks. They were rippling through her and Roy felt them even as they diminished.

"You okay?"

There was no answer. She didn't lift her eyes to his. He curled a finger under her chin and made her look at him. To his horror, her eyelashes were wet and the little eyeliner she wore was trailing down her face. The idea that he'd gone too far, that he'd broken her beyond consolation, made his heart race with guilt and panic.

She was still shuddering.

"Elizabeth, what's wrong…talk to me?"

Her inhale was ragged, uneven, "I'm…I…I'm sorry."

He stared at her for a moment, "Sorry? What for?"

"I know you don't…it's not what…what you enjoy."

"You enjoyed it. Didn't you?"

She looked down and hid her eyes again. Roy fought back something that might have been fear.

"Riza…tell me that's what you wanted."

She nodded. He rubbed wetness from eyelashes with his thumb.

"Then what's this all about?"

"It's too much. I've never…never…they gagged me."

His heart stopped and he clutched at her tighter. His own breath went ragged and even as she tried to compose herself, he bitterly wished she didn't have to.

"They said…don't make…don't make a sound…"

"Elizabeth…"

She kissed him. He could feel all the unspoken words pass over her lips. He could feel the need she had. She was desperate. She didn't want to speak. She wanted to be with him. More than anything else he felt on that kiss, he felt the relentless desire to be connected. In any way possible.

"Please, Roy. Please," she begged, her voice vibrating over his lips.

He did and didn't want to. She needed more time to recover. More time to deal with this. But he didn't want time to think. Didn't want to think about anything that had just been served to him on a platter. He had to be in her again and lose himself because he had to stop thinking about how different this was from any other time. How differently this made him feel about himself, about her, about what they were doing for each other.

He detangled himself from her and slid down her shivering body to press his fingers against the core of her. Only a few strokes and she was moaning and writhing. She tilted her hips up. Eager and desperate and more than willing to let him control her again. And he knew why.

The moment he did, she could lose herself same as him.

"Please, Roy—just—"

When Roy thrust into her it was like he'd been ripped open. It was too much. Too soon. Too hard. Roy felt it in more than just his body. Something inside him was ripping open. He slammed into her harder, seeking oblivion and making them both gasp for breath.

But he knew he couldn't have oblivion. Not when she was like this. He wouldn't. Couldn't. Shouldn't open up when he'd caused her so much pain. Made her vulnerable when she'd known better all along.

If he opened up now, he'd break beyond repair.

* * *

He hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in near three weeks. Mostly because every time he closed his eyes, he saw the horrors Riza had never admitted to going through. Even if he hadn't been there, just her falling apart in his arms was enough to bring him to clear and vivid vision. He hadn't spoken of it to her, making damn sure she didn't talk about it, either. He hedged away from it, shut down, and hoped she'd take the hint that he didn't want to speak on it.

She'd gotten quiet again in bed. Maybe quieter than before. And he hated to think that he'd brought her to it. That facing those demons of hers had made her even more timid and in control. But for the life of him, he didn't want her to be free again if it meant facing them. Maybe if he kept not talking, she'd stop trying to delve into it.

Maybe it meant he could make this simple, uncomplicated.

Another long day had left him unnervingly tired when he slid into bed next to her. She'd been in his bed since that night, and he hadn't asked. But just sliding in next to her had jolted him and his body had come alive with need.

It had been amazing and quick and everything he'd expect from her. But now it was late, and he was tired again. Too spent. Too worried. He snuggled up behind her, holding her gently and let himself start to drift.

"Roy?"

"Hnh?"

"I want to do it again."

"Only just got done," he grumbled into her hair.

"That's not what I meant."

His mind jerked awake. But he stayed still, unassuming, pretending.

"_Roy_."

"Yeah. Okay. Maybe."

She rolled around to face him, "Maybe?"

"Yeah. Now let a general get some sleep," he closed his eyes deliberately, cutting off the conversation the best way he knew how. He hoped she would get that the conversation was, in fact, over.

She didn't, "You're a liar, Roy Mustang. A liar and a coward."

Roy's eyes snapped open and he glared at her, "What did you just call me?"

"You heard me. I trusted you, Roy. Trusted you and…and you said you wouldn't judge. Said it wouldn't make any difference and it has. Said it wouldn't change this, and it has. And now you say you'll do it again when you sure as anything know you won't. That makes you a liar. And not having the guts to say it makes you a coward."

He grabbed her arm hard enough to make her squirm a little, never meaning to but not about to let her go, "You..."

It didn't faze her and she only got angrier, harsher, "Tell me, Roy. Tell me you think I'm weak. Pathetic. Tell me this is over. What are you so afraid of? Didn't you win some kind of medal in the war? Like to know how, seeing how you're a yellow-bellied coward."

His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched, "I am a hair's breadth from—"

"Then prove me wrong. Do it. Now."

"Don't think that's such a good idea. I'm not feeling any bit warm and cuddly to you right now."

She gave a derisive little chuckle, "I knew it. Knew you'd find some excuse."

He gave her arm a little shake, "I do it now, I might hurt you. Really hurt you."

"I don't care."

His lungs closed up. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He shot from the bed, snatching up a shirt and heading for the ladder not at all caring he was only in lounge pants. She was quicker, dashing around to stand in front of him, naked, blocking his way.

"I said I don't care."

He stared at her for a moment, damn near angry and cornered enough to just do it. He took a breath, balling his shirt up. "Well, I do."

Her face softened, "Roy…"

"I can't, Elizabeth. I can't."

Before she could make another attempt to sway him, he brushed past her to the door, leaving the silent room.

* * *

An hour later, Roy walked back in to see her sitting on the bed, knees to her chest and looking all varieties of wretched. Her eyes were soft, meek.

"You're still here? Waiting for the liar and the coward?" his voice was a bit more gruff than he wished it were.

"You're neither, Roy. And I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to."

Her words cut him like nothing else could. Time was, he'd have melted away at those words. At some chance that this relationship was real. Solid.

He pulled the shirt off, sitting at the side of the bed. He wanted so bad to tell her sorry. Tell her that he couldn't bear to see her hurting on account of him. Instead, he put a hand on her thigh.

"Still want to beg?"

A slow smile crossed her lips, "You don't have to…"

"Oh, I think I do."

He leaned forward to capture her lips in his, the warmth of them melting away any resolve he should have kept. Her lips pulled him deeper, speaking to him without a word. He pushed her down, feeling her shiver and his own body throbbing in response. He kissed her neck and shoulders, her hands on his back holding him close.

He nipped at her jaw and she gasped. He pulled away, the fear coming back all too quickly and driving sensibility back into his mind.

"I never thought you were weak. You're stronger than anyone I know."

"What?"

"What they did to you…and I just…I don't want to be them. I don't want to hurt you."

"Roy…you won't."

He kissed her again. Laid a kiss on every square inch of her body until she was writhing and begging for more. He slid back up and put her on her side, kissing her neck, her shoulders, the small of her back, all to hear her babble. But she was still holding onto some control. Like she didn't want him to stop if she let go. He bit her shoulder, over her tattoo, and she gasped. He let his mouth linger by her ear.

"Don't be quiet on my account."

"I thought—" her breath caught in her throat when he nipped at the sensitive skin behind her ear.

"Don't think. Feel."

She yelped once, and again after that. Each touch sent her deeper, more beside herself with need and that abandonment making him push harder, make her moan and curse and whimper louder. She bit into his arm ever so slightly with the fervor when he plunged into her, her muffled voice saying something Roy didn't quite catch.

He paused, looking over her shoulder to see her face lost to the feelings, "What?" he asked.

Her whole body was shivering to the rhythm he'd set. Either she couldn't answer or she just wouldn't, but Roy didn't care. He wanted to know what she'd said. He stayed still, her body rocking against him for his lack of motion.

"I wanna know what you said, Elizabeth."

She shivered again, tensing around him like she was fighting something. She dragged in a breath and Roy couldn't resist. He thrust hard, deep, making that breath catch and surprise made her hand grab at his hip behind hers. He didn't stop, slamming up into her hard and relentlessly.

"Tell me," he muttered through ragged breaths.

"I love you. God, Roy, I love you, I love you," the words poured out of her like a mantra, taking all her remaining self control with them.

Fueled by the sudden, unconditional and returned promise he'd been waiting so long to hear from her, Roy didn't stop, driving her to the edge until she cried out and reached around her shoulder to make a grab at his neck. He bit her again when she tensed around him.

But either he was too old for twice in a night or the world had been spun upside down. He had it. Had the promise from her that she'd been reluctant to say and the waiting for months could end because he'd said it first and now he knew just how to be what she needed…

Except he didn't feel victorious. He let her shudder and he pumped in time before pulling away and out and not caring that he hadn't come. If anything, it felt like she might've won this secret battle. She was the one laying out aside him, content and tingling. But he found he didn't care about what he hadn't done.

She rolled around, coming back to her senses, and snuggled up next to him, eyes closed and calm. He let her. She was warm, inviting. She ran a hand over his stomach and then looked at him suddenly.

"You didn't—?"

"It's okay."

Her face smiled at him, "No, Roy, it's really not."

She gave one quick tug at a nipple before sliding down his body, resting her head against his thigh. So real. So solid. Gentle caresses got firmer, more deliberate. The whispered touches become more insistent and then Roy felt her take him into his mouth, driving him away from sanity. Her mouth pulled away and his hips followed, craving more and straining for release. He watched her leer at him, blowing on him to make him shudder. His head fell back to the pillow.

The warmth enveloped him again and he was swallowed up by heat and wetness that tightened around him. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the soft pressure of her lips and tongue moving up and down. She nipped at him gently to bring him between hunger and apprehension. And then there was suction, overwhelming, mind-blowing, intense suction that made him grab a handful of her hair. Obediently the mouth on him opened wider and let more of him in, swallowing and humming and pulsing and Roy couldn't help but rock his hips.

His nerves were on fire, his skin tingling and his groin tight with arousal. So close, so very close…and yet it didn't happen.

She pulled off and he looked down at her, confused at his own body's non-reaction as much as by her sudden stop. Looked down and found deep chocolate eyes staring back at him, deep into him, making his hunger more voracious. Looked into the face of the woman he loved and who was dumb enough, smart enough, to love him back. And she smiled at him.

She kissed the head of him ever so gently. His groin tightened and a jolt went up his spine. He shuddered, cursing and taking her name in vain and pleasure.

He was still shivering, trembling, when she laid over him, warming him. He wrapped his twitching arms around her back, holding her there and never wanting to let her go.

"I love you," he whispered, running his fingers across her cheek.

"Love you, too."


	5. Complications

It was never supposed to get this complicated.

I always wake up first. But I don't stay. I don't want him to see me in the morning, when the afterglow of sex has faded away to the harsh light of day. I don't want him to know how much this means to me. How much he makes me lose control. He's so much and yet nothing in this verse. General and war vet, soldier once and always, a good man, an honorable, possibly even great man, a leader and a commander, my lover and my rock and my release and for all the faith he lacks he instills it in me.

I'm not sure why I'm staying here right now. What he'd whispered last night was just the exclamation of the sensations I brought him to. I know he doesn't really mean those words that way. Not that he is incapable of them, just that he's lost so much he refuses to admit there's something more to lose. But whispered moans aren't much to go by when morning comes. So I usually leave so he understands just what isn't expected of him.

Except this morning I couldn't bring myself to go. I notice, now more clearly, that he's grown accustomed to me, trusts me, to the point that he won't rouse when I move around. It used to be that every little move I made afterwards would wake him, startle him. Now, he's soundly asleep. I lie on my side, on hip and elbow, my cheek propped on my hand, and watch him like I'd refused to before. How he could trust me this much, I don't know. It scares me, to think he trusts me this much.

He looks so much younger when he's sleeping. The lines of constant worry and pressure aren't on his face. His breaths are longer, deeper, healthier. I smile to think that he never looks as old as he really is, but to see him sleeping makes me think he's my age. I only know his age because Havoc told me and he only knows because he pried. He's not old, but he's old enough to need more sleep afterwards.

I should go. If he wakes up and sees me here, he'll wonder. He'll start to develop more emotions that neither of us can afford to have—or at least admit to having. It's already gotten complicated. His whisper last night makes me realize just how. And I hate to think that the complication isn't entirely his fault. This happens too often to be just a casual thing. And we've both made sacrifices because we don't want anyone to know. If they knew…

I think I'm staying because I want them to know. Maybe if they knew, it would end and I could be free from this developing emotion. Maybe if they knew, he would shun me and I could leave this brigade. But I know, as he sleeps there, that he wouldn't shun me. And that leads to me also knowing that this has gotten far too complicated. Far too personal and attached.

He still whispered those words last night. It's almost like he doesn't blame me for my talents. Almost like he doesn't care about how we got here. Only that I'm with him now. He believes in me, not as a soldier or a lover, but as a person. I control him, but he's the first who ever wanted to return the favor. He's not content to let me do the work. He never is. Those nights when I get him to succumb so completely, he always apologizes in the din. And it breaks my heart to hear him do so. That's when I know this is far beyond just the bed.

I reach out and whisper my fingers over his nipples, a just-barely-there brush that makes them both rigid and alert. He's still breathing deeply. Not really here. I pull the sheets down to reveal his whole middle. I push his arms aside, off his chest and hip, to make this easier for me. He moans a little when I roll a nipple under my fingers. It makes me fervent, wishing he was always this easy to control. Another, small, limbo moan when I point my tongue and press it into his navel. He moves a little and I push his hips down, settling between his legs. A little not-quite-awake grunt when I trace the line between hip and thigh with my fingers. My tongue swirls in his belly, and his hips try to turn and press against the sensation. Even though his eyes are closed, he's just barely awake and his flushed cheeks prove me right.

I move my tongue slowly down closer to his cock. It's been rising slowly to attention and the moment I lap at the tip, his breath hitches and he buries a hand into my hair. I take his hand from my crown and he lets me. I hold his hips down harder as I suck and lap at his balls. I can feel them tighten and release when I blow on them, then return to sucking on them gently. He's moaning uncomprehendingly, his fists twisted in the sheets and a few small whispers of my name passing over his lips. I love making him wait for satisfaction. I run my tongue along the sensitive vein closest to me on his erection and his hips buck.

I swirl my tongue around the tip and suck gently without ever taking him into my mouth. He's trying to thrust up, but I'm more awake and stronger at this angle. I hold him down and it drives him insane. I can hear the barest whimper of a please. I finally cover him and he moans louder, his back arching when I add more suction. Up and down, just as I know he likes. The perfect pace for him. I swallow all of him and this time I have more trouble keeping his hips down on the bed. I keep him swallowed, humming when he inches his body farther down the bed for leverage. My cheeks are puckered and my tongue is pulsing against the vein and my humming is vibrating everything.

I let him thrust into my mouth. I don't gag and I wonder if he hates me for it. His fists are tight in the sheets and his back is a curved line as he snaps his head back. I can only see his long, beautiful neck and his chin. I continue sucking, changing the pitch of my hum to his pleasure. I move one hand and, when he starts to tremble, I knead that sensitive spot just behind his balls. He arches and isn't able to keep from yelling out as he comes, hard and in shuddering pulses.

I swallow everything without my mouth leaving his cock. I suck and twist until its soft. He's still moaning and shuddering with the aftershocks. I knead that spot once more and he bucks and yelps, the last aftershock more intense than others. I finally take my mouth from him, creeping my way up his spent, glistening body. I trail kisses from groin to collarbone, licking and nipping here and again to make him murmur and groan. When I reach his face, there's something there in those wandering midnight eyes. Something that makes me lean over him, overlap him, and wait. His eyes are still dazed when he looks at me. He's trembling. _Trembling_, like some love-struck schoolboy. I almost hate that I bring this strong, resilient man to his fall so easily and, more than that, that he lets me do this to him. He's weak with the fall and he can barely control his hands to take my face by the cheeks. His ivory face is flush and dewy. He wants to say something. I know that needy look in his eyes. But even that's too much at the moment. His shivering body makes me weak with knowing that I've done it to him. I lean down and kiss him gently and even this small token of passion makes him moan into my lips.

His clumsy, limp arms wrap around my back and he pulls me down without really meaning to. My chest against his, I can feel his rapid, pounding heart. He's slowly getting control back of his body. Slowly able to command spent nerves and clumsy fingers. His hands wrap into my hair, bringing this kiss deeper. I know he's too spent for another round this soon. But he's trying his damnedest to keep up as if I expect something in return.

His hands brush along my sides and I try not to let him see me catch my breath. He's pushing gold hair from my face and tenderly looking at me between kisses. This has gone too far. I should've ended it months back when we were both just lusting. But this look in his eyes makes me weak and worried and uncomfortable.

It would've been better if I'd left instead of watching him. I shouldn't have given into temptation and maybe I wouldn't be feeling this nagging, aching and guilty feeling deep in my gut. My pulse is racing and I'm trying my damnedest not to let him know it and think it's because he's touching me so gently. I sit up a bit and start to roll off him. He catches me, tightens his arms around my back and pulls me back onto his chest, running the back of his fingers along my face and holding me. He's just staring at me. Staring at me like for all the worlds spinning he meant those whispered words last night.

"I should go. Everyone'll be getting up."

"Let 'em wonder."

No, he didn't just say that. That means even I underestimated this serious, about-to-become-an-issue feeling. I squirm a little. My heart is still pounding because I know I can't go down this road. Not with Roy. He's too good a man and all he wants is to be with me. Me, the fallen. No, I can't let him do this to himself and he needs to be put back in his place.

"I like you hair better down," he says, running strands of it around his fingers. I never knew he had a preference.

"What?"

"Like it better down. Makes you look…prettier."

I finally sit up and mutter a thanks. He lets me go this time and I'm both missing that heat from his arms and grateful that he didn't try to hold me down again. I don't know if I could've gotten away another time. Don't know if I could've told myself to move if he'd tried to keep me close again. I find my scattered clothes, the cold air in the room making me shiver a bit. I can hear the bedsprings groan behind me. I ignore it. I don't want to look at him again. I can't because if he looks at me again like that I might just give in and stay snuggled next to him. But I can't ignore the warmth that he's exuding when he comes up behind me after messing with lounge pants. I start to button my shirt and he touches my neck. I jolt. His hand recoils and yet he puts it back, pulling my collar straight.

"Damn, didn't realize it was that high up. Guess you'll be wearing your hair down today."

I cover the kiss-bruise with my hand self-consciously before flipping my collar back down and shaking my hair to cover the purple blotch. I shudder when he wraps his arms around me. I want to and that wanting will get me in more trouble than even I care to admit. I fasten the clasp on my pants, not giving him the chance to pull me to his chest. I can't face him. I know, from the way his hands drop to his side, that he's hurt. Hurt and knowing, like me, that being hurt is our own damn fault. The attachment is obvious and yet I don't find any reason to address it. His silence makes me grateful that he doesn't, either. I don't want complications. I only want to make him happy.

And he can't find happiness with me.

"I'll see you at breakfast."

I open the door and don't look back. He started to say my name and I'm grateful as anything that he didn't finish it. The door clicks shut next to me and I fall back against the wall for a moment.

It was never supposed to get this complicated.

* * *

**A/N: So, who was Roy with? Let me know who you think it is... Because I love playing mind games!**

* * *


	6. Kiss and Tell

He wasn't sure how he got into this predicament. He only knew he was in it. Eyes wide open, searching for anything to see even as he started to register the silk blindfold that kept him blind. Hands held behind his back, tied together and useless. Not too tight, not constricting, but unnerving because they were tied. His heart beat faster, his instincts to grab a gun went off and he tried to get up from the bed. One hand held his shoulder. He spun to his back, his arms packed down under his body. The hand belonging to the person he couldn't see was flat on his bare chest, two fingers in the hollow of his clavicle. His reaction was to calm himself, recognizing the warmth of that hand and the familiar feel of it.

"Winry?"

She shhshed him gently, her hand still pressing down on him. He swallowed with a dry mouth as he felt her warm, naked body press against his.

"How'd you…"

"You sleep like a rock," she whispered. He couldn't see her but he could feel her cloying breath roll over his ear and neck on one side.

"What are you doing?" his voice wasn't as steady as he wanted it to be, and he swallowed again. He felt lips on his neck, under his jaw with the lightest of pressure, nipping once to his excitement.

"We're gonna play a little game."

He shivered. Her mouth wandered back to the hollow of his neck under his ear. She kissed him there, his skin responding with goosebumps.

"And it…it means I have to be blindfolded?"

"Of course."

"What's the game?" he shuddered as a hand brushed over his loose lounge pants before running up his side possessively.

"Kiss and tell."

Her mouth was still wandering and the fact that he couldn't see a damn thing made him more susceptible to it. The moment her lips pulled away from his skin, he waited with agony to feel where they would land again. He felt warm breath over his chest and the sudden wet warmth of her tongue over his nipple made him gasp.

"Have you ever played before?" her voice vibrated over his skin.

"N-no."

"It's simple. I kiss, and you tell me something about what I'm kissing."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not the one blindfolded."

The tease in her voice made him almost smile, his mind still wrapping itself around the fact that he was helpless. She pulled away, hands and lips and all, and his skin cooled. He felt his bed shift and he realized she must have gotten off for a moment. But it shifted again and he felt her hand trail up his leg to the curve of his rear, turning him on his side. His right automail arm protested as he lay on it and he felt the lightest pressure of a finger tracing a large scar down by the waistband of his pants. The bed shifted and he felt wet loving lips kiss it, nipping at the raised flesh to send a shiver up his spine.

"I kissed," she murmured.

"I was in East City…got stuck…with a knife…" he had to fight to keep his mind on track while her mouth and teeth teased at the scar and his cock fought with his brain to have blood flow.

She moved away from the scar and he felt her finger trail his back, running down and up along the spine. She pulled him onto his back again and his left arm tingled with fresh blood flow if only for a moment. He waited for another touch, his skin pulsing to be kissed. He'd never felt it like this. Not seeing made it better, and worse, and more things he couldn't comprehend when she touched his hardening groin. He gasped. Her hand wasn't on his skin; she hadn't gone under the lounge pants.

Her mouth came back to kiss another scar, one on his left shoulder. She sucked at it, making stars flash behind his eyes when she bit down even slightly.

"In...in Lab..Lab 5..." he whispered.

"Hmm, you're getting good at this. How are your arms?"

"Starting to hurt."

Her body pressed against his, "Do you want me to untie you?"

He couldn't speak for her warmth over him. He nodded once, his mouth dry and his heart beating loud in his ears. God, he wanted to be untied so he could touch her and take this ravaging edge off what she was doing to him. He was being driven and it was something he never knew could be so exhilarating. He rolled on his side to let her reach the silk rope. His shoulders rolled and one popped when he lay on his back again. He went to reach for the blindfold. She pinned him, stopping his hands.

"I didn't say you could see."

He swallowed, her hips over his groin and his cock yearning to be touched and warmed. Just her sitting on him, her body on his, made him shiver. He felt her rock a bit, exciting him as she held him down by his wrists.

"Winry…"

"I'm not done playing."

He felt silk around one wrist again, the rope being pulled a bit taut before she tied it over his other. He wasn't sure what she'd—

His arms were kept over his head when he tried to bring them down. His headboard rocked a bit and he twisted his wrists in the secured silk. She ran her fingers from his wrists to his chest, that soft, teasing touch eliciting more heat deep in his belly, growing and tingling.

"No more kiss and tell. Now we have fun."

"Being tied up isn't exactly my idea of fun."

"And I suppose you don't beg, either," she whispered.

"No."

"We might have to change the dynamics here, you know. Make you beg, make you fall," her lips brushed against his as she spoke.

He trembled, "I don't do that."

She purred, "That so?" her lips sucked at his earlobe while she rocked a bit, only pants between him and her hips. He could feel her bare skin when she laid on him. She was naked, enjoying herself as she made him languish and wait for release. He tried to meet her lips but she pulled away. He let his head hit the thin pillow, finding himself somewhere between exasperated and enthralled. The little sound in the back of his throat wasn't a whimper, more of a plea, for her to touch him more, kiss him more.

"What do you want, Ed?" she asked slowly, quietly.

"Want you."

"You can't have me tonight. Can't have control."

"Winry…"

"Give in. Just feel everything. No control."

He swallowed, "I can't…Winry…"

"Shh. Just let go. I'll catch you."

He bit his lips as she rolled a nipple between her fingers, grinding her hips down onto his and making him scream on the inside for her to touch him.

Her weight shifted and he felt her slide down, taking his pants with her. He was exposed to the cool air of the bunk and it made her hand all the hotter as she wrapped it around his cock. She rolled her thumb over the tip, spreading the wetness of his arousal over his sensitized shaft. He couldn't help himself when he arched, because she wasn't even using both hands and he felt pressure behind his balls and she was hitting a spot he didn't know he had and _oh god_ she was refusing to take him in her mouth, instead breathing on him and making his cock tingle and vibrate and then her mouth was right above it kissing pleadingly along his groin and stroking at the same time and god that was something new that he'd never felt before but it made him melt as more heat roared up…

She finally brought her mouth around his cock, sucking and twisting. He couldn't see, couldn't prepare for anything when she decided to caress and stroke. He was blind, and she was leading him. He tried to get his hands down from being tied to his headboard, wanting to run his fingers through her hair as she found that perfect rhythm.

She stopped. He moaned, his cock exposed to cold, chilling air as she shifted on the bed. He felt one light hand brush the tip of it, sending explosions of pleasure to his brain. But she didn't finish. She would touch, and tease, just enough to keep him on the edge, but she didn't let him come. He arched when she wrapped a hand around him, trying to get that last little push from her. But she was still.

"Winry…"

"Ask me for it."

He swallowed, his body tensing as she gave a little squeeze to remind him how close he was and yet how much she was holding him back. He gasped, feeling his body on overdrive. He had never…not ever…been refused this pleasure before and her demand made his blood run cold. He'd never had to ask. She'd always…always…

"Winry…please…" he whispered.

She shifted, bringing her weight over his chest, her groin rubbing against his and teasing him all the more, "Please what?"

He whimpered when she ground her hips into his, "Please…"

"Do you want me to finish it?" her voice was steady and seductive and he could barely hear her as she whispered to him.

"Yes…please…"

She rotated her hips again, eliciting a sudden gasp when she slid down on him. His fists curled when she started sucking, still rubbing and touching that spot that he'd never felt touched before and making his eyes roll into his forehead. He felt himself get caught up in the rise and stars flashed behind the blindfold, his mouth uttering things he'd never said before as he came, unbridled and unrestrained, crashing into ecstasy. His back arched and his breath hitched in his throat. He rode the wake, thrusting up into Winry's mouth and she somehow managed to match his rhythm, pulsing on that spot with each lingering wave.

His shivering body went flat on the bed, his fists unclenching. She let him go, running her hands over his thrumming, sensitized skin. Her tongue circled a nipple and he gasped when she bit almost too hard, his body tensing and feeling everything.

He felt the silk come off his wrists slowly, the length of it being trailed down one arm to make him shiver. He could feel her nestle in next to him and he faced her. He was still vibrating when she pressed her forehead into his.

"I'm going to take the blindfold off. You open your eyes when you're ready."

He nodded numbly. Her deft fingers untied the silk, and he kept his eyes closed. He'd begged, and he didn't want to see the way she was looking at him because of it. She'd made him say things, and he couldn't stand the thought of her judging him for it, for giving in so easy.

Her lips kissed his eyelids slowly when she took his face in her hands, "Come back to me, Ed," she whispered.

When her lips moved away, he opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the relatively bright light. She was searching for his eyes, soft and unassuming. With his deep breaths still ringing though his body, she held his face in supplication. He met her gaze, seeing those brilliant blue gems.

She shifted and lifted the covers, "Here," she said softly, holding them up for him to get under.

Their warm bodies melted into each other as they lay there. She ran her fingers through his damp hair. He watched her as she tended to him, so calm and complete. He'd never had it so good before, and he somehow wanted to thank her for giving him the feelings she'd roused. But how could he cross that bridge when he wasn't even sure there was one. Was she waiting for him to give feedback? No, that look on her face said she knew, at least as well as she could, that it had been good. Then why was she still so lovingly holding and touching him? He was still shivering, his body not fully recovered and back to earth from her touch.

"You okay?"

He swallowed, not feeling any semblance of control over his voice when he spoke, "Yeah."

"Did you like it?"

He nodded, his voice betraying him. She smiled warmly again, her balmy hands on his jawline keeping him from looking away, ashamed at how easily he'd given in to her. She leaned in again to kiss him on the lips, lingering there for a moment.

"I told you I'd catch you."

"What about you?" he was surprised that his voice let him complete a full sentence without quivering and breaking.

She smiled, pushing her warm body closer to his, "Next time. Next time we'll worry about me."


	7. Rough

Their eyes had met over the dinner table and since then he'd fought so hard to keep control that finally losing it was nearly reward enough. Those beautiful eyes made one quick glance at him. One quick look and nothing more and he was spiraling into her need. He hadn't much cared that she, languid and collected, had excused herself from the table with a smile and a goodnight while he, on the other hand, had been so obvious as to his intent to follow her. But that didn't matter now because they were in his room. They'd managed to get the door closed and that was when her control had been lost. They hadn't made it from the doorway before he was on her, kissing her while she was backed into a corner. His hands glided over her curves, pulling off the shirt that was hiding the delicious femininity below.

She pulled from his kiss, "Stop."

The haze on his brain made it take a second longer than it should've, but he pulled away, opening his eyes to look at her, still cupping her face in one hand. Respect, and understanding, those were things he'd been taught from the start. His mother had made it damn well clear that a woman was precious, not a piece of meat or a trophy.

"Why are you always so gentle?"

He stared at her, "What?"

"I'm not a porcelain doll. I won't break."

Her almost angry tone caught him off guard and he stared at her for a moment, "What…why? Is this…us…is this not working?"

She pressed into him, "Remember when I made you let go? How I caught you?"

He surely did and the thought of seeing those stars made his pants too tight, "Yeah."

"I want you to do that to me."

"…I don't think I can do that."

She was grinding against him, so eager, "I want you to be in control. I need you to be."

He tried to smile, "Aren't I mostly always?"

Her bedroom eyes made his stomach go flippy and when she trailed her hand over his neck, he shivered. She wasn't thinking, she was feeling.

"There's more than one way to bed."

"Do know that. I just…I respect you…I…I love you. Have no need to control you."

She kissed him gently, "I trust you to. I want this."

He swallowed, "What you're asking me to do…be rough, control you…that's not me."

She nodded, "It's hard to sometimes. But we can pick a safe word. So you'll know you're not hurting me. A word I say, that'll make you stop without thinking."

His brow furrowed for a moment, before "Homunculus."

She smiled, pushing into him again, "Homunculus it is."

"Don't let me hurt you."

"I won't. And we both know, things go wrong, I'll throw you off quicker than a land mine, and about as hard."

He smiled, kissing her, "Tell me what to do."

"Pin me."

He braced for this. This was what she wanted. Roughness, forced love. He would do it because he knew her well enough to know hers wasn't an idle threat. He would be across the room if he crossed a line and didn't stop. She would protect herself above all else. But she didn't want to have to. She wanted to give in and she trusted him to control her. He thought of a million ways this could go wrong. Of all the ways he could hurt her. The ways she might look at him afterwards. But then he knew how exhilarating it could be to give in. She'd done it to him and had mentioned that another night would be about her. This was that night and he could do his damnedest to give her the stars.

He grabbed her upper arms and pushed her against the wall. She gasped, her head thumping against the wall with a thud. But she was smiling. She pushed against him; she was stronger than he'd given her credit for. She threw his grip. He stood there, seeing a flicker of disappointment.

"The idea of pinning me is to keep me from getting away."

He slammed her back harder, the dull thud coinciding with a few cracks and pops of her shoulders. But she gasped again, a drunken smile on her face.

He tried to kiss her and she kept her lips pressed shut. His forced his way beyond them, feeling her squirm under his grip. She almost threw him again. But no, he was going to let her give in. He would be the one to have control. He held her tighter until he felt bone under her muscle, keeping her pressed against the wall. Her lips were trying to keep his tongue at bay and the pressure made him push harder.

He shoved her. The urge had come up so quick he hadn't had a chance to filter it. She stumbled, and when their eyes met he saw a carnal, desirable spark. This was what she wanted. Rough and tumble. He took the steps closer and grabbed her, pushing her back and down onto the bed. His hands had her around the wrists. She squirmed under him and refused him her lips when he leaned in to kiss her. He nipped at her jawline, eliciting a gasp. But there was no safe word. She was still pushing him farther. He reached a hand down to open her shirt but the moment he did, her free hand came across his chest, trying to throw his grip.

He pinned her harder, pulling her wrists together to hold them with one hand. He squeezed her waist between his knees and thighs while she rocked under him. She would buck her hips, trying to throw his balance and grip, and he only smiled, gripping her harder and pushing himself onto her. He didn't fumble with the buttons of her shirt. No, that would be too gentle. He reached behind the collar, tearing down. The buttons popped off, her shirt opening. He pushed aside her bra. Her fiery eyes burned into him, following him down as he fondled her harshly. He could hear her protest in a pleasured, painful little sound in the back of her throat.

He pulled off her, that one little sound doing more than any safe word could do. He stood at the foot of the bed, her confused face almost as worried as disappointed. She quickly closed her shirt, staring at him. But he couldn't see it. He'd pushed it away, far away, and nothing had ever brought it out. So long ago that he'd made himself forget and forgotten that he had.

"Roy?"

He looked at her. She wasn't Cassandra. She wasn't her. This was Riza and this was his room and his ship and she'd asked him to do what he'd almost done.

He felt his skin go cold and when she reached for him, he recoiled for the heat of her. She slid off the bed, moving to his side, "Roy. What's wrong?"

"I can't do this," he said quickly.

"Okay. We won't."

But that sound…those sounds…the sight of her. He wanted to be rid of it and he damned Riza for bringing it up because if she'd just been happy, he wouldn't be seeing this again.

"I think you should go," he said quietly.

She looked at him, taking his hand, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Get out."

"No. Tell me what's wrong."

"None of your business."

"I think it is. Roy, what happened?"

"Get out!" he shoved her.

She landed on the bed unceremoniously, never breaking her gaze on him. Her jaw worked, but she didn't leave. He stared at her. That wasn't playful. That wasn't what she'd signed up for, and still she wasn't leaving.

"Roy, what happened?" she asked again.

"They raped her."

Her face fell and she didn't say anything. But those eyes said she knew. She knew just what he needed. Without a push, without a prod, he sat next to her and she stared at him, keeping a small distance.

"They raped her and I couldn't stop them."

"Who?"

"Cassandra. We…we were always together…and they beat me…and I couldn't stop them when they hurt her. She begged and they didn't stop…"

Riza leaned into him, taking his hand, "How old were you?"

"Eight," he said simply. God, he hadn't realized how young he'd been. How young she'd been, "And they never…she begged…and I couldn't do anything."

"That's not your fault, Roy."

"I should've protected her."

"You were a child. Not even legal yet. Don't blame yourself."

"She killed herself after…and they…they laughed while…and I couldn't do a damn thing."

She took his face in her hands and he felt his welling eyes overflow when she kissed him. She held him fast, looking him in the eyes, "It wasn't your fault. What happened was terrible but that doesn't make it your fault."

"I failed her."

His salty tears touched his lips and she kissed him again, her own eyes red and about to overflow. She wiped the trails from his cheeks, holding his face so close to her own, "You didn't fail, Roy. I don't blame you. I don't think she would, either."

"Riza…"

"Shh. I can catch you."

She laid him down on the bed, facing him with her back on the bulkhead, keeping his face in her hands. His own tears wet the thin pillow, her echoing face not as dry as a moment ago. She ran her fingers through his hair, kissing him gently.

"I'll always catch you, Roy," she whispered.

A sharp exhale that might've passed for an incredulous chuckle passed his lips, and he felt his eyes get wetter. He took her hand in his, holding it to his face.

"I'm sorry."

"No…don't be sorry. Never be sorry."


	8. Games

**A/N: So, I uploaded this, realized it could be better, and so reuploaded it again with subtle changes and a bit more to go on as far as who exactly we're reading about here. **The moment she stepped in stride alongside him, he knew. Without asking, without making eye contact, he knew. Her person radiated her intent, her hand perched on the hilt of her sword just so and her gait ever so slightly measured, predatory in its existence.

* * *

Things had changed. Their hours were so similar that it wasn't unlike them to leave Headquarters after dark and within moments of each other. They were the two highest ranking officers in the country, afterall. The government hadn't rewarded either of them with the promotion they desired and longed for, but they were still consulted on everyday affairs. And his personal affairs had suffered because of it. Dinner was waiting for him and had been served with love and devotion. No less than he'd expect from Riza. Her reassignment had changed things and his love for her hadn't ever dwindled. It would be the first time they had an evening together in over a month. And now, it seemed even that was in jeopardy for the woman walking next to him silently.

His heart was beating double time in a strange, almost quixotic, mixture of trepidation and anticipation. His palms were sweaty under his gloves. His mouth was dry and felt about the same as a cotton ball. He didn't dare ask or try to start a conversation. He was praying and hoping that she changed her course and had only fallen in step in some sadistic form of entertainment at his expense.

"You mentioned earlier that you had an engagement, did you not?" her thick, deep voice asked smoothly.

His heart fell to about his ankles, his body heavy and leaden, "Yes."

So that was it. She'd overheard his excuse to a councilman about his semi-early departure from the meeting, and she'd gotten it in her head to delay him a bit longer. It was a game, something she did when she was bored and needed her smile refreshed. There wasn't another word between them, no indication of her intent beyond what he could feel all the way down to his boots. The last steps of a stairwell led them into the underground garage in which his car was parked. A brick had formed in his gut, his skin trembling with the knowledge of what was going to happen.

It had been several weeks, no – closer to a month, since the last time he'd been in this situation. Each time, he swore it wouldn't and couldn't happen again. They were colleagues and any interaction between them had to remain professional. She was the head of the northern and western armies, and he was in command of the southern and eastern masses. Their cooperation was vital to the countries survival. And each time he thought about leaving, about firmly and flat-out telling her that this doomed liason had to stop, she made his eyes roll back into his head.

His hand could barely hold onto the key when he pressed it into the door lock, reached for the handle and opened it. The moment the door was open, he felt her lithe body behind his, invading every inch of his personal space. Her hand reached around and grasped at his front, cupping his flaccid cock in her palm through his pants. Just the pressure made him exhale deep through his nose. If he forced the sensations away, made sure to not react, she might second-guess herself enough to let well enough alone. She knew her talents, her needs and wants, and she used it against him. He was unwilling and yet his body was thrumming as she slowly tightened and methodically loosened her grip around his groin. His eyes slid closed, his body warming while his gut was cold with dread.

He turned to face her, those ocean-blue eyes and free-flowing blonde hair inches from his face. Her hand never left its target and he fought with every fiber in his body to ignore the perfectly-timed motions she was applying.

"I have to go," he whispered.

"It can wait."

"I...I can't tonight. Riza's waiting for me and I told...I told her I would be there by 8:30," his breathed hitched when she applied more pressure.

"So? What's another ten minutes?"

The insult was blatant, the implication clear. Indignation took over for a brief moment, "I can't—it's not that quick," his voice lost its edge when she leaned forward and ignored his protest to run her tongue around the shell of his ear. His breath quivered and his shoulder came up reflexively to protect the sensitive flesh.

Her invasion wasn't over. She had pressed her chin just so and it kept him from blocking her access to his ear. She drew the lobe between her teeth, licking at it, and kept rhythmically massaging his cock which had taken a definitive interest in the attention. His breath fell out of him in a stuttering, uneven flow. Using her leverage, she forced him to sit in the seat and released her hold of his earlobe to take her white glove off her free hand by her teeth. The surprisingly smooth and silken skin of her palm and fingers wrapped around his neck. His body sank into the seat. Mouth open in a little "o" of overwhelmed sensations, he couldn't find words to argue when her mouth moved down to the fly of his pants. His eyes staring straight ahead, brain slowly losing the battle for blood flow, he inhaled sharply when her mouth sucked his half-erect cock into the warm cavern, laving the head with her tongue. Idly noticing that she hadn't even gotten into the car, he tried to sit up, to stop her and close the door. If he could do that, he could deal with the arising situation on his own and be free from the shame. He could drive away and leave her there second-guessing herself.

She hummed and the vibrations ran along his body like electricity. The back of his skull thunked against the headrest, his eyes closing. Then it was done, her mouth off his cock and he hated his body for trying to follow her with his hips.

She kissed him, her hand still wrapped around his neck. He refused her anything more than a brushing of lips. Her teeth and his met. His determination to not let her win had faded, but he wasn't about to give in anymore than he already had.

"See? It's just easier," she cooed against his ear. Her breath was hot and cloying.

"I have to go," he whimpered.

"No, you don't."

"Yes..."

The last bit of his fight was deflected when she doubled over again to envelope his cock fully in her mouth. God help him, he gasped when the head of it touched the back of her throat. Overwhelming warmth and suction that almost made him whimper. And when she pulled back, he could feel that vacuum intensify and it dragged a ragged breath from his lungs. A shock that made his jaw drop when her tongue played with the slit, lapping at the precome that had beaded.

She pulled off again to run her tongue over his lips. His heart was pounding behind his chest, his body brought to the point of surrender. She never looked him in the eyes and truthfully she didn't need to. His body was shivering. His breaths were shallow and harsh. His eyes had glazed over. Latching onto his earlobe again, he could feel her smile against the column of his neck.

He hated himself, "Okay...we'll finish it."

Like a magnet repelled, she was off him and nonchalantly opened the door to the backseat. It took some coordination on his part to pry himself from the driver's seat. His body was falling, his brain unwilling and unable to fight any more than it already had. He heard the metallic ting of her sword as she dumped it to the floorboards. Hunched over, he braced his hands on his knees and the evidence of her talent was staring him in the face.

Giving one glance around the abandoned parking garage, his defeated body clambered into the backseat with her and the moment the doors closed he felt his mind go blank. She had already removed her uniform pants, the jacket remaining on. Lifting his ass from the seat, he lowered his pants to his ankles and it was a rush to feel bare skin. His hands moved of their own volition and found the swell of her breasts beneath stiff cotton. She straddled him and was painfully doubled over for the roof of the car. Her nails dug into the soft skin of his neck, grabbing him like life itself.

His hand at the base of his cock, he guided it to the folds of her warmth, sighing to feel the wetness there. Not looking up at her while their foreheads met, he fumbled to drive himself into her and damn her she was rocking and making his task that much harder. The pressure against the head of his cock made him hiss and clench his jaw, unable to plunge into her velvety center. Frustrated, he finally grabbed her hips by the jut of the bone and lined up. He heard her gasp when he lifted his hips to invade her. Her nails dug in deeper and he kept his chin touching his chest with eyes welded shut.

If he looked up, he would see that smirk on her face as she got what she wanted. He would see her victory even as he fought to retain his moan at her tightness. Their hips clashed as each tried to vie for dominance in the rhythm. Each thrust sent him deeper, but not deep enough to erase the pain. The angle was wrong, the motions weren't matched. It was nothing more than desperation; the desire to relieve the pressure forming in his groin and the pain in his heart that grew stronger with each thrust. She had won him over and he'd let her do it. His anger made him grab at her waist, forcing her to match his pace and rolling her hips in time with each of his pained motions. Fingers grabbed so desperately that he felt bone underneath soft skin. He slid down, the backseat unforgiving against the base of his neck, and felt the bone-melting warmth of her around his entire cock. Her hands were against his shoulders, one running up and down his neck and dragging its nails. The pain reiterated the pleasure. She shifted and it was enough to drive him insane when she clenched around him, her own body quivering in exertion and needy desire. His body felt like a live wire had just been turned on inside and he cursed because he couldn't just give in.

Without care, without tenderness, he pulled out just barely in time to see his own come spill onto his stomach. Her breaths matched his. She sat back onto his hips and each breath washed over his face. Her hand curled under his chin and she tilted his head back to consume his mouth with her own. He didn't have the energy nor the will to fight it and instead just remained motionless as she took what she wanted.

His stomach was somersaulting, his body had broken out into a cold sweat. He swallowed hard, pushing down the bile that wanted to come up.

She rolled off him and casually reached for her uniform pants. Sliding them back on, she took a moment to recline in the backseat and shot him a glance. She was searching his profiled face and he couldn't look at her. Instead his gaze remained fixated on some oddity on the front dashboard.

"If you hadn't resisted, it would've been quicker," she smirked.

She lifted her hips to button the final closure on her pants before opening the door and swinging her legs out. Standing, she reattached her sword to her belt. The door closed and rocked the car.

Sitting there, he regained control of his breathing. He felt his heart slow. The high faded away and blood slowly started to make its way back to his brain. His jaw tightened and he finally looked in her direction as she sauntered back across the dimly lit garage. Never did she look back at him, never did she give him one shred of decency to hold to.

Fire and snow only made a mess when they got tangled with each other. He and the North Wall of Briggs were no different.


End file.
